


Breathe

by Trash



Series: Kinktober 2017 [29]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Day 29: overstimulation, Kinktober 2017, M/M, and panic attacks, y'all were expecting porn but what you're gonna get instead is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: 'Sensory overload occurs when one or more of the body's senses experiences over-stimulation from the environment.' Or, Dan has a panic attack.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2017, day 29: overstimulation.  
> Title from TKAK.

_Don't think of folding  
Wear my arms around your neck  
And we'll breathe...  
We'll breathe..._

They’re at a radio interview when it happens. Dan becomes aware of it slowly, and then all at once. 

Kyle is talking, retelling the story of how they met, and Dan can barely hear him for the noise of the music playing in the background. There’s a crowd of competition winners in the studio and their laughter is deafening, drowning out Will when he talks about his general dislike of people.

Dan stares at the interviewer’s mouth as she talks, trying to understand what she’s asking, but he can’t hear her. “Uh, sorry,” he says, “was in a world of my own. What was that?”

Woody laughs. “Having a nice day dream, mate?”

“Dreaming he wasn’t sitting next to you, probably,” Kyle says, and the interviewer’s question is lost in the peel of laughter from the audience. Luckily, Will answers for him, and whatever he says is obviously satisfactory because they don’t turn to Dan again after that.

He glances around at the guys, wonders why they don’t look as hot as he feels. Radio studios are always hot, but the lights in this one are so bright he can feel them burning his scalp. He tugs at the collar of his t-shirt and takes a deep breath, clutching his hands together in his lap and staring at them. Did he have a headache before? Or is it from the heat the lights the noise?

And the pressure. The pressure of the fans watching them and the interviewer asking questions they weren’t briefed about beforehand and Dick in the corner watching the clock and knowing there’s thousands of people listening and judging and the other guys can obviously sense how fucking awkward he feels because they’re just answering the questions without saying anything and he feels like such a fucking let down because he should be able to just fucking deal with all of this by now but what has he got to say of interest anyway and will everybody think he is a fraud and think he’s faking it all and the studio is so loud and hot and bright and before he can think of an excuse he finds himself pushing away from the sound desk and pulling off his headphones and staggering out into the hallway then outside into the carpark and falls to his knees, throwing up in the gutter.

He spits miserably, and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie. He does a couple of laps of the carpark to try and calm his churning stomach and racing heart, and that’s where Kyle finds him - picking his way through the lines of cars. 

“Panic attack?” Kyle asks, even though the answer is obvious.

“Just all got a bit much. I...have no idea why. It was just...way loud, and hot. And I felt this, like, pressure.” Dan leans against the empty bike shed in the middle of the car park and looks up at the sky. It’s that unique, British grey, where it could rain at any moment but it probably won’t. 

Kyle leans beside him, slides his hand into Dan’s and links their fingers. He shrugs, like none of it matters, like Dan didn’t just run out of a fucking live radio interview to be sick in the bushes. “Do you feel better now? That you’re outside, I mean?”

“Feel better now that you’re here,” Dan says, honestly.

Kyle laughs. “Aw, thanks mate.” They stand in silence for a while, watching a seagull fighting a losing battle with the wind and letting itself be swept in the opposite direction. “Hope you’re not going to work yourself into a frenzy over this later.”

“I’ll try not to?”

“I’m not convinced.”

Dan smiles, squeezing Kyle’s hand. “I’ll try not to,” he says.

Kyle nods to himself, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” he says. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Dan being made to come a thousand times but I wrote angst instead. Needless to say, anxiety attacks aren't kinky - being in a healthy, loving relationship with someone who knows how to help you get through a panic attack is kinky.


End file.
